The Itch
by violaqueen93
Summary: Mia has always been satisfied existing on the fringes of her brother's world, that of street racing. But she is a Toretto, and racing runs in her veins.


Damn the itch.

It was an ever present annoyance, even more so than Brian's continued involvement in Dom's garage or the constant din of LA traffic. She barely even wanted to acknowledge its presence, or, god forbid, act upon it. How could she, when she constantly berated Brian for doing it? Even she noted the hypocritical aspect. She had a child to care for as well as Brian, Dom, Letty, and all the other members of the crew that constituted her family. As understood matriarch of the Torreto family, she had duties. Responsibilities. There was no reason strong enough to-

"Mia!"

Mia jerked out of her musings in time to see Brian bound through the door, the usual grin splitting his face. She good naturedly permitted a brief kiss, though his face sweaty and streaked with grease. One hand slid down her back. "No, no," Mia playfully slapped Brian away as a wounded look crossed his face. "Not until you take a shower, mister."

"Aw, c'mon, Mia, baby-"

She laughed and danced out of the way of his grasping hands, pointing toward the bathroom. "I'm serious! Scoot."

She smiled at his exaggerated grumblings as he dragged himself down the hallway, shaking her head. Ex-cop, elite street racer, and international criminal, and Brian could still sometimes be more of a baby than their two year old.

Speaking of Jack, Mia hurriedly checked her watch. It was almost 6. Dominic and Letty were supposed to bring Jack back around seven, just in time for dinner…that she was supposed to have been preparing for the last forty five minutes. Oops.

She scolded herself as she flew around the small kitchen, throwing out knives, vegetables, steak, cutting boards, and anything else she needed to make a quick beef stew. Daydreaming was a pleasant way to while away a lazy afternoon-unfortunately, not something that existed in Mia's world at the moment, not with a chubby toddler, a family of daredevils, and LA residents to boot. No, her world was pleasantly full at the moment. Still, the flashes of memory crossing her mind's eye opened an ache in her she didn't know existed. Perhaps…just once more…

"Mierda!" The expletive escaped before Mia could stop it as she doubled over in pain. The knife that had just seconds before been deeply embedded in her hand dropped to the floor as she grasped for the dishtowel, her head spinning at the sight of the bright red liquid dripping from her palm. Tears welled up in her eyes.

The distant shower cranked off. "Mia? Is everything okay?" Brian's voice sounded odd through the cotton in her ears. Stomach rolling, Mia blindly sank to the floor cradling her clumsily wrapped hand in her lap. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and willed the shock to pass quickly.

"Nothing!" She tried to shout, but it came out all wrong, weak and shaky. Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. Her hand gave another searing throb, and she choked back a sob.

"Mia?" Mia cracked an eye open to see Brian poised in the doorway clad in nothing but a towel, his hair still wet, a handgun hanging loosely from his fingers. She knew the moment he spotted her on the ground, all his muscles contracting at once. "Mia!" Rounding the chopping block at a speed that would have shamed a track athlete, Brian was at her side in a second, kneeling next to her, reaching for her hand only to be stopped when she jerked back.

"I just sliced my hand open accidently that's all! Leave it be, I'm fine." She spat the words through a cloud of pain, embarrassment, and humiliation. Didn't this just turn out to be a capital evening, Brian walking in to see her curled up on the ground and crying over a little cut. He must think her such a weakling now.

Brian was silent for a moment and she hated what she knew he must be seeing. "Let me see Mia. Please." His voice was in his gentlest tone, and she reluctantly surrendered her hand to his. He brushed the few errant tears from her face before examining her hand more closely.

Carefully closing the towel over the wound again, Brian gazed at her, concern written all over his face. "I'm taking you to the emergency room. It's pretty deep, I think you need stitches."

Mia shook her head emphatically. Finally her head was starting to clear, her stomach settling. She took a deep breath, calming her racing heart. "I'll do it here." If there was one thing she was not going to do, it was to go to the hospital. She herself had patched up countless injuries worse than this, whatever idiots Dom dragged into the garage for her to care for. Stitching a palm would be simple.

Brian however, was having none of it. "Mia, we aren't laying low anymore! I'm not having you stitch up your hand with nothing but whiskey and dental floss," Mia frowned and Brian scowled at her. "We're going to the emergency room."

"Brian!"

"No arguments! Wait here while I throw on some clothes!"

Brian rose and stalked back to their bedroom, where she could hear him throwing open various dresser drawers and ripping clothes off hangers. Mia struggled to her feet and checked her hand again. The bleeding had slowed, but blood was still dripping out along the edges. She stuck her hand under the running faucet, gritting her teeth against the sharp sting and the fact that the water flowing down the drain was red.

"Dammit Mia!" Brian strode across the kitchen and yanked her hand out from under the water, grabbing the towel to lightly twist around her palm. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I was just rinsing it out!" Mia shouted at him, her temper finally breaking. "I think I know what I'm doing Brian!"

Brian's eyes turned into chips of blue ice. "Right." He snapped off, grabbing her good arm securely and dragging her, squirming and yelling abuse, to the car. He yanked open the door and shoved her into the passenger seat with more force than was absolutely necessary before circling the hood and cramming himself into the driver's seat, and after starting the car up with a roar, peeling down the street with a squeal.

Mia refused to speak to him on the way to the hospital, while the doctor stitched her hand (though she allowed him to hold her other hand in both of his), and on the ride back. As they pulled into the garage, Brian caught her arm as she went to get out. His voice was weary. "I'm sorry Mia."

She merely looked at him, but relaxed back into her seat.

Brian brought her good hand up and gently kissed it. "Please don't be angry with me."

Mia finally relented. "I'm not mad anymore," she admitted, cupping his cheek with her hand and caressing it. "I just…"

"What's the matter Mia? What can I do?"

Looking into earnest face, Mia couldn't deny him anything. Even if she denied it herself.

"I want to race."

* * *

**I plan on continuing this, so be patient. Not too good yet, I know nothing has happened so far, but I have a plan! I always thought Mia was one of the most interesting characters in the FF series, so this mostly focuses on her life after Fast 6. **


End file.
